


Ablaze

by wallhaditcoming



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Character Death (minor character in the story but major character in the canon), Demons, M/M, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 18:01:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallhaditcoming/pseuds/wallhaditcoming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of vignettes about a powerful witch who has decided to burn the world, and the demon who helps to show him how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SatanInACroptop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatanInACroptop/gifts).



> Originally written as a series of three askbox fics for Le Creep, finally tidied up and posted here. To give you a sense of what's coming, the document title is "Charles is a BAMF Witch and Erik is a turned-on demon."

He finds Charles sitting in the midst of the ashes of what was once his home, eyes closed and something fisted in his hand.

The subtle shift in Charles’ posture lets Erik (a name he hadn’t used in centuries, but his all the same) know the man before him is aware of his presence.

“It was the people in town,” his voice is flat.  “They waited until I took my trip to the library, and then they barricaded the house and set it on fire.”

Erik is not surprised.  Humans are dangerous, are petty, are vicious, even without encouragement from his kind.

“Witchcraft, they said,” and the fist clenches around its contents.  “Raven…Raven was a witch.   And she was too powerful for them to risk putting her on trial.  It was obvious.”

With every word, Charles grows less impassive and more angry, his control slipping.  The rage Erik has sensed in him, coiled tightly within and contained by Charles’ remarkable force of will, has been set free.

“They were right, you know.  A witch did live here,” Charles informs Erik, gaze fixed on the room that once belonged to his sister, the room that now served at her grave.  “They just had the wrong Xavier.”

His hand falls open, and in it rests a gemstone that has been spelled with so much power that it is practically blinding to Erik.  He should have been able to sense it from three miles away.  That he had been unaware of it not three feet away suggests a great deal about Charles’ abilities.  That he was unaware of Charles’ crafts says a great deal more.

He is powerful.  He is dangerous.

He is _beautiful._

“I am going to burn them.  Burn them all.  I was willing to try and coexist, was willing to hide in the shadows…but no more.”

A pause, and Charles turns his gaze on Erik, his blue eyes blazing bright and beautiful with anger.

“I know what you are, Erik.  I have known since you arrived months ago.  I know _why_ you are what you are.  I was going to try and persuade you, try and stop you.”

“And now?” Erik asks.

“Now I want you to join me.  I won’t make you.  I could, but I won’t.  I want you by my side, Erik.”

Erik presses his lips against Charles’, opening his mouth in surrender as the young, powerful witch claims it as his own.

It is only right, Erik thinks.  A deal with a demon is always sealed with a kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

Charles has been practicing witchcraft for just over twenty years.  All that time, he has known.  Has known exactly what it is he is capable of, exactly what he could do if he let himself.

That power has been…so tempting.

He’s imagined it before.  Imagined what it would be like to use his magic. Imagined how it would feel to finally set free the fire he could feel coursing through his veins.

It didn’t feel the way Charles expects.

It is so much better.

He pauses in the middle of his rampage and laughs.  He’s free.  He’s finally free, and he has no idea why it took him so long to embrace every part of what he can do.

Erik pauses and turns to look at him, eyes beautiful in the light of the inferno they have created, and the demon breaks into a smile that is all teeth.

Heat that has nothing to do with the fire stirs in Charles’ chest, his groin, and he sees an echoing light the demon’s eyes.

Charles _wants_ , and so he reaches out and takes.

Erik lets him.

They kiss as the world burns down around them, fire flaring higher with every probe of Charles’ tongue, every scrape of Erik’s teeth.  The heat is around him and inside him and it’s all building.  Every death sends even more power coursing through his veins, combining with lust and adrenaline to form a heady combination that he can’t control.

Erik slides up behind him, mouth hot against his neck and breath warm against his ear when he tells him to “let go.  Let it all go, Charles” and then Erik bites down and Charles does.

“Beautiful,” Erik whispers awestruck, his gaze encompassing the ruin and Charles, and Charles is on his back and they’re both naked and Erik is thrusting deep inside him and Charles lets go, Erik’s voice in his ear and his hand on his cock.

They lay in the ashes, Charles tracing runes onto Erik’s skin with his soot-stained fingers as they talk.

“You were never human, were you?  You’re one of the first.  One of the fallen.”

It’s not a question.  Charles can feel Erik’s heritage like he can feel his own heart, still racing in his chest.  But Erik responds regardless.

“Yes.  I saw what God had created, I saw how it was dark and twisted, and I saw that he loved it more than he loved his angels, and I rebelled.”

He turns and covers Charles with his body, presses them together skin to skin as he continues, gentle rocking fanning the embers still burning low in the witch’s stomach.

“I used to laugh at them, used to loath them.  Those that fell for love.”

“And now?” Charles gasps, arching upwards in search of more heat, more friction, just _more_.

“I understand a little better.  But I still laugh,” he whispers, licking a line down Charles’ neck with a tongue that is far hotter than it should be.  “Because you are so much more than human.  All that power, hidden, caged, just waiting to be set free.”

Erik groans as Charles works a thigh between his legs, and he looks down at the witch with black eyes.

“That was the first time, wasn’t it?  The first time you let yourself go.  In every sense.”

Charles nods as Erik moves, lining himself up once again.

“I can show you.  I can teach you how it really feels, how to use it.  Let me show you, Charles.  Let me show you what you are, show them what it means to fear,” he hisses out between sharp thrusts.

“Yes,” Charles hisses in one long exhale, wrapping his legs around the demon’s waist and dragging him closer.

Erik bends down and presses his lips to Charles’ in a kiss that soon turns bloody, sending them both over the edge again with a twist of his hips and a flick of his wrist.

When Charles finally rises from the ashes, he is something new.


	3. Chapter 3

Erik stares across the table at his…well, he doesn’t know quite how to describe everything that Charles is to him, but the witch is most certainly _his_.  That much is clear.

Regardless of the label applied, his Charles is drunk.  His cheekbones are stained a red Erik has only encountered while buried inside the man, and his blue eyes are hazy, and sin-red lips are parted in a wide grin.

Erik wants nothing more than to pin him to the table of the tavern where they had stopped despite Erik’s protests, (Erik would rather have razed it, but Charles had made _persuasive_ arguments in favor of a shelter with a bed and had given his promise to burn it in the morning if Erik were so inclined) and he is leaning forward to suggest they make use of the bed Charles was so insistent about when he freezes.

The demon is not the only one thinking about those lips, that face.  The scent of lust is in the air, wafting from several people who are watching Charles with hunger.  A growl escapes his throat without his permission as he glares at them.

Charles simply smirks up at him, and his inhibitions are low enough that Erik can sense the power wafting off him.  He mutters a few words and traces a symbol on the table and Erik knows enough about witchcraft for his eyebrows to shoot towards his hairline even as the spell takes effect and the entire tavern is suddenly awash with lust.

Charles rises to his feet, but he doesn’t walk around to where Erik is sitting.  No.  That would be simple. Instead, maddening creature that he is, he climbs onto the table and stalks across it on hands and knees (there is too much intent for it to be characterized as mere crawling) even as other customers turn to whoever is nearest to soothe the fire Charles has stoked in them.

“It didn’t seem fair for us to be the only ones enjoying ourselves,” Charles informs him, sliding into Erik’s lap like he belongs there (he does), like he owns Erik (he does).  “Besides, I know you can feel them, can sense the desire like I can.  And I thought it might,” he stops long enough to drag his tongue along the shell of Erik’s ear before taking the lope between his lips and sucking, all while rocking up and down in Erik’s lap, “ _enhance_ things for us.”

The look he gives Erik when he pulls back, sliding off Erik’s lap and onto his knees, can only be describe as wicked.

It has ceased surprising Erik when Charles turns out to be correct, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys the discovery any less.


End file.
